


Hopeless Situations

by jilliancares



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aquaphobia, Langst, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Or almost, Panic Attacks, Possibly A Clone Shiro, just bc he acts really... severe here, kind of, listen this was just really self indulgent, oh wow that's a perfect tag, ooc shiro, which is the fear of water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 08:43:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12503476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jilliancares/pseuds/jilliancares
Summary: “Where are you?” Allura demanded. “We can track the blue lion, but if you’re not with it—”“Then you can’t track me,” Lance concluded. He nodded his head. Yeah, totally hopeless.“What do your surroundings look like?” Pidge asked, all business.Lance hummed. “Wet. Dark,” he concluded.“That narrows things down,” Pidge said snidely.“Very wet,” Lance added, looking down at where the water now lapping against his belly button. “Getting more wet by the minute, actually.”Or:In which Lance very nearly drowns and becomes (pfft! totally not!) terrified of water.





	Hopeless Situations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FangirlKats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangirlKats/gifts).



> dudes this was just me being like HEY,, i LIKE IT when lance almost dies ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ and then it was gonna be over but i went HEY again, because i LIKE IT when lance is scared of things ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ and when keith saves him ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> (gifted to kat solely because she's obsessed with angst and sends it in the gc too much?? read THIS you angsty bitch!!!)

Lance was familiar with hopeless situations.

Contrary to (some peoples’) popular belief, he wasn’t stupid. He could tell when nothing else could be done to help a situation. He knew when it was too late, when there was no going back, when there was no chance to be saved.

Growing up, he’d always known when something was hopeless. He knew that once his mother said no to something, it was hopeless to try to change her mind. He would watch other kids beg their parents long past the initial “no”, wondering what in the world they thought they were going to accomplish. He’d always known that once his older brothers pinned him, it was useless to keep trying to wrestle them—winning was located nowhere on the horizon.

Hopeless situations had always, always been clear as day. It was the same feeling regardless of the specifics, the same secure sense of absolute knowledge. Whether it was his phone ringing with “Mama” spelled across the screen while he was at a party, having told her he was sleeping over at a friends house. Whether he was watching a fox chase a squirrel, a deer step out into a busy road, a bird diving towards the glimmering surface of the ocean. Scenarios and scenes, people and places, feelings and sights and smells—all with that same label stuck to it: hopeless.

Being a defender of the universe, a paladin of Voltron, it was kind of important to never feel hopeless. It was their duty to be strong and optimistic, to seek the light in any situation and turn things around for better. Lance had thought he was pretty good at that.

Still, being as familiar with hopeless situations as he was, it was kind of impossible to deny that that was what this was. Blood was seeping between his fingers, still pressed firmly against his side, and water was too quickly spilling into the cave Lance found himself stuck in. It really only took one glance around, one thought spared for the pain pulsing through his abdomen, to conclude _yep, I’m fucked._

It kind of sucked that he was going to die in the midsts of a battle with the Galra. It was just that they happened so often, were so abundant and regular, that even though dying while fighting aliens was cool enough to someone with normal standards, now it just felt lame. Like, couldn’t he at least die trying to fight someone big and important? Instead of _bleeding out in a cave?_

He hadn’t even done anything cool or heroic to end up down here. It barely seemed to matter now, but back in the sky he’d said something snarky he couldn’t even remember anymore, something that he’d thought was particularly clever and funny. It’d made Hunk groan, and Pidge cackle, but Lance hadn’t even heard Keith make a sound, which was the reaction he’d been actively vying for in the first place.

Thing was, his comment had distracted himself, and a cruiser had crashed into him and he’d somehow managed to get ejected from Blue’s mouth and go plummeting towards the planet’s surface. Cue: crash into ocean followed by pain with a side of terror, only to struggle to stay above the surface in his heavy paladin armor and end up washed up into some sort of sea cave. In that whole commotion, something sharp and painful had pierced his stomach, and something stupid and heavy had cracked his helmet, leaving the glass spiderwebbed in front of his eyes. Water was pooled inside his helmet already, lapping against his neck, from his tumble in the ocean.

His breath was pretty ragged, thanks to the abject terror mixed with the pain, but he finally found it in him to focus again, to hear the high, tinny voices in his ear.

“Lance? _Lance_!”

“I’m here,” Lance croaked, before stretching out a leg and groaning. The water was filling up the cave fast, already creeping up over his hips.

“Where are you? The blue lion tumbled down towards that planet—”

“I’m not in my lion.”

“ _What_?” this one sounded like Keith. Lance tipped his head back, forcing a raspy breath through his lungs.

“She ejected me after I got hit.”

“Where are you?” Allura demanded. “We can track the blue lion, but if you’re not with it—”

“Then you can’t track me,” Lance concluded. He nodded his head. _Yeah, totally hopeless._

“What do your surroundings look like?” Pidge asked, all business.

Lance hummed. “Wet. Dark,” he concluded.

“That narrows things down,” Pidge said snidely.

“Very wet,” Lance added, looking down at where the water now lapping against his belly button. “Getting more wet by the minute, actually.”

“Lance, what are you saying?”

Lance laughed weakly, quickly followed by a pained groan. “I’m saying I’m stuck in a cave and it’s filling up with water.”

“ _Lance_!”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell us that sooner!?”

“What? Like that’s gonna make you able to _not_  track me faster?” Lance scoffed.

“Alright everybody _calm down_!” Keith bit out, sounding anything but calm. “We can—we can figure this out, we just… we have to…”

“Fuck,” Lance panted. He’d lifted his hand, trying to assess the damage underneath, but it was dark in here and about half the injury was already submerged under water anyway. It seemed like the water was pouring in faster by the second. Already it was almost at his nipples.

“Pidge, behind you!” Hunk cried. Oh right. Lance had totally forgotten that they were all still fighting up there.

“There’s too many of them!” Pidge growled. Lance tilted his head back, closing his eyes as he tried to just breathe. Some of his last breaths, he figured.

He’d always loved the ocean. Days spent by the beach, toes sinking in sand and waves licking at his knees, flitted easily through his mind. He’d spent more time at the beach than in his own house. But for the first time, Lance felt scared of the water.

“Lance? How you holding up?” asked Hunk. Lance almost wished they wouldn’t talk to him. Forcing words to come out of his mouth was taking more and more effort with each sentence. He just wanted to take a nap.

“Not good,” Lance answered truthfully. Normally he’d lie, but maybe that would be the worse of two evils right now, giving everyone false hope.

“We have to get down there,” Hunk growled, but Lance was back to tuning him out. He was right—the cave _was_  filling faster. By now it was touching his chin, just barely seeping in through the cracks in his helmet, and with a wheeze Lance forced himself to his feet. There wasn’t enough room in whatever space he was in to stand properly, so he stayed hunched over. No light was coming in from anywhere and Lance wasn’t even sure how he’d ended up in here. He was thinking now that some of these rocks must have shunted into place after he’d wound up here.

“Yeah,” Lance agreed. “My helmet’s broken, so…”

“Lance!” Allura blurted out, startled. “Why didn’t you say that earlier?! Of course we were worried, knowing you couldn’t have that much oxygen left, but to say your helmet’s _broken_ …”

“Any other dire information you’re keeping from us?” Keith snarled. Lance was panting with the effort of staying upright now. It almost seemed like it would be easier to sit back down.

“Bleeding,” Lance answered. “Kind of a lot.”

“That’s it!” Keith shouted. “Allura—we can’t keep fighting here. We have to go find Lance.”

“The Galra—”

“Who cares!?”

“Keith—”

Lance couldn’t really understand what was going on. Partly because their voices sounded quiet in his ears, and partly because the whole cave had taken to spinning around him. Lance pressed his hand harder against his wound, tilting his head back. The water was up to his neck. This was really it, wasn’t it? Hopeless.

“Guys,” Lance said quickly. “Um. I’m gonna mute myself.”

“ _What_?”

“Lance, why—”

Lance didn’t answer them. He’d already snuck a finger into his helmet and pressed the button that cut his voice off from theirs. He realized that it would be too cruel to make his teammates listen as he choked on water, as he drowned.

He could still hear their voices in his ear, loud and panicked and obnoxious. Lance ripped his helmet off for good measure, and it floated in the water beside him. His face was pressed against the rocky ceiling, spitting out water as it slotted into his mouth over and over again. Panic, thick and ugly, gripped his stomach as the water covered his face completely, as he found he couldn’t take another breath.

“ _Lance_!”

He could still hear their voices, he realized. His helmet, also submerged, relayed their panicked words muffled through the water. Lance held his breath until his chest ached, and past that, and then, when he couldn’t take it anymore, when fire lit itself inside him and threatened to pull him apart—he gasped.

And choked.

And drowned…

—

Pain exploded through his chest, sharp and hot, as water was expelled from his lungs through a series of wet, rasping coughs. Someone punched his chest again for good measure, and Lance weakly batted their hands away.

His breathing was ragged and ugly, his throat so raw it hurt to draw air through it.

“Fuck.”

Lance ignored the voice, still coughing as he pressed a hand against his side. It was _still_  hurting? Belatedly, Lance realized that he’d somehow managed to survive.

“Fuck, Lance. Hold on.”

God, breathing was _great_. Well, other than the way it felt like fire in his throat every time he inhaled, but it was still great. He loved breathing. He wanted to breathe forever.

He grunted, making a pained noise, when a pair of arms scooped him upward, holding him against the owner’s body, making him bounce with every step.

Lance finally peeled open his eyes, crusted shut and stinging from salt water.

“Are you an angel?” Lance murmured. Keith looked down at him, eyes wide and alarmed. Lance felt his mouth pull up into a smirk. “ _‘Cause I’d let you save me any day_.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but his hands seemed to tighten around Lance just a little bit more when he hissed between his teeth, having been jostled. Keith was holding Lance’s helmet in one of his hands too, and Lance could see the red lion looming over them. He closed his eyes, knowing he’d get back to the castle safely. And to think, he’d thought survival was hopeless.

—

Healing pods were disorienting. It just never really sat right with Lance, how he could be bleeding out and on the brink of death at one moment, and perfectly healed the next. He’d been so thoroughly convinced that he was a goner, and then he’d been stepping out of the pod, good as new.

Well, almost good as new.

He’d smiled through the reunion, hugging everyone after exiting the healing pod and pretending he hadn’t been trying to memorize their faces mere hours ago. He’d gone to breakfast (he’d been in the pod all night) with everyone and smiled and laughed and felt fine, really. Near death experiences were part of the Voltron Experience.

He’d only realized that he wasn’t completely fine when Hunk tried to cheer him up. Hunk was always the best at this, and after long, stressful battles or just bad days in general, he always offered to go down to the pool with Lance. He knew that Lance loved to swim, that he’d done it all the time back on earth, both to relieve stress and just for the fun of it.

But when Hunk said, “Do you wanna go down to the pool?” mere minutes after they’d finished breakfast, Lance felt cold fear grip his heart. The thought of being down there, of submerging himself in the water... Water, which climbed up his body, trapping him... Water, cold and thick and choking, shoving itself up Lance’s nose, down his throat, filling his lungs and making his body ache, lighting him in fire from the inside out—

“No,” Lance managed to squeak, tamping down the possible panic attack rising within him at the thought of doing something he was supposed to love. “I’m too, um... tired,” he lied. With that, he was up and out of his seat, ready to deal with this problem like he dealt with all of them : by avoiding it.

He should’ve realized that everyone would catch on to his new found fear soon enough. He’d never realized that anyone was actually paying attention to him—at least enough to notice when he stopped taking opportunities to swim. For example, Pidge glancing up from the tablet she’d been typing on as Lance passed by her, saying, “Going for a swim?”

“What? No, I was just—“ Lance answered, making an aborted gesture over his shoulder. And stuff like that kept happening. With _everyone_.

Maybe it was because they could tell he was getting kind of antsy, not having an easy outlet anymore. Either way, he found himself red-faced and tripping over his words every time someone so much as mentioned the pool. It even got to the point where he was lying, going so far as to put on swim trunks and grab a towel and pretend like he was going for a swim to ensure everyone that he wasn’t actually scared of water.

What he didn’t realize was that everyone still wasn’t believing him. It’d come up a few times when he wasn’t in the room, how it seemed like he hadn’t been swimming lately, and they’d decided to figure out for themselves.

This was why Keith showed up in the hallway after Lance excused himself from breakfast, exaggeratedly mentioning how he was going for a swim.

“Thought I’d go with you,” he said with a shrug, running a critical eye over Lance. Unsure how exactly to get out of it, Lance stammered out a response, panicking the entire walk to their rooms to put on their swim trunks. He continued to panic after that, in the elevator and in the hallway to the pool. By the time they made it there, the scent of chlorine prominent in the air, Lance was sweating. The water was still and seemed infinitely deep before them.

“You okay?”

Lance blinked, realizing he’d come to a complete stop in the entrance.

“What? Yeah, of course!”

Lance realized right then that there was no way in hell he was going to be able to get in that pool. The thought of doing as much had him tasting salt in his mouth. He could feel it choking him, flooding through his body.

He couldn’t get in that pool.

“Oh... Gosh!” Lance suddenly exclaimed, smacking a hand to his forehead dramatically. “You know what? I totally forgot I have to... I have to do this, um. _Thing_.”

“You have to do a thing,” Keith stated.

“Yeah! Yeah I-I totally forgot about it. Classic me!” And with that, Lance spun on his heel and practically sprinted through the castle, getting as far away from the pool as he could.

Lance didn’t realize that that wouldn’t be the end of it. He didn’t realize that his newfound fear of water would end up being considered a _problem_  by his team. Apparently the paladins of Voltron were supposed to be able to swim if need be, and he couldn’t swim if he refused to even get in the water.

This much was said to him the next morning after breakfast, when the entire team was staring at him too seriously, as if they were going to _enforce_  this.

“I’m not scared of the water,” Lance tried.

“You are,” said Keith. _Damn him!_

“I’ll get in the water if I have to,” Lance amended. And he _probably_  would. Like, if someone was in danger, struggling out in the water, he’d probably be able to swim out to them... Probably wouldn’t shrink back, the thought of water slotting over his head, spilling over his tongue, too much for him...

“We’ll have to sensitize you, Lance,” Shiro said, which was about the moment Lance decided he hated his guts. It was definitely either then or the moment swiftly following it, during which Lance was digging his heels into the flooring beside the pool as his teammates tried to convince him to go in.

“Come on Lance, you love to swim!”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Lance—”

It sounded like their voices were underwater. _Again_. Like he was drowning, their voices drifting to him, squeaking from the speaker in his helmet.

“I can’t,” Lance choked out, stumbling a good three feet backwards. Someone stopped him, a hand on each of his elbows, and he struggled out of their grasp, afraid they were going to shove him into the pool.

“Shiro, I’m not sure if this is the best—”

Shiro cut Keith off. “We can’t afford to make the team vulnerable. Lance is our strongest swimmer—we’ve already had several missions where his skills have been paramount. We can’t allow for his fear to fester.”

And with that, Shiro was grabbing Lance’s elbow and marching him forwards, even as Lance dug his heels into the ground and clung to his arm, letting out a yell as they got closer to the edge of the pool.

“ _Shiro_!” someone shouted angrily, only moments before Lance felt his feet slip over the edge of the pool, sending him crashing into it. Panic surged throughout him, refusing to abate even when his feet banged into the floor of the pool, the water only just above his hips.

_The water was filling up the cave fast, already creeping up over his hips._

He could barely breath, he was panting so hard his lungs were having trouble drawing in more air. Lance made some sort of pathetic noise in his throat as he made an aborted motion towards the edge of the pool, halted by the look on Shiro’s face.

And he _got it_ , okay? Yeah, Shiro was probably salty about his past, about how he froze during battle sometimes, overwhelmed with fear or flashbacks or whatever from his days when he was captured. Lance _got that_. Shiro didn’t want him to go through the same shit, blah, blah, blah, but right now he couldn’t find it in himself to _care_. All he could feel was afraid.

“Let him out.” It was Pidge, this time, someone who Lance wouldn’t really have expected to be on his side. She pretty much always enjoyed other people’s suffering, it seemed like. But right now she was looking at Lance with something like worry in her eyes.

“ _No_ ,” Shiro insisted. Mind, Lance was noticing all of this kind of distantly, away from all the panic cloying his senses, but a part of him still panged with abrupt _annoyance_. He was _dying in here_! He could feel it! He was drowning all over again, choking on water, and Shiro couldn’t even find it in himself to care.

It was only then that Lance realized he was speaking out loud, muttering something like, “ _I’m drowning I’m drowning I’m drowningI’mdrowingI’mdrowning_ ,” under his breath.

“You’re _not_  drowning,” Shiro insisted.

Finally, the force of his glares couldn’t hold Lance still anymore. He rushed through the water, swallowing down bile at the way it slowed him down, and tried to scramble out of the pool. Much to his dismay, his fingers jammed painfully against some sort of invisible barrier, an inch away from the wall.

“Shiro!” Lance cried.

“I’m sorry Lance,” said Allura. She really did look sorry, her face kind of anguished and her hand making an aborted motion towards the device held in her hand, as if she might turn off the barrier.

“Princess _please_ ,” Lance panted, pressing his hands against the wall. She stared at him with wide, sad eyes. “ _Hunk_ ,” Lance begged, turning to his friend. Hunk already looked on the verge of tears, and he looked to Shiro desperately.

“Oh, this is ridiculous!” Keith burst out. Just like that, he was taking two steps forward, yanking the device out of Allura’s hand, and jamming his finger into it. The wall melted out from under Lance’s fingertips and he scrambled forward, surprised when he found himself with help. Keith’s hands curled around his and pulled him out of the water. His relief was so heavy it weighed him down and he simply collapsed against Keith, shaking in his arms.

“That was sick,” Keith muttered angrily, probably to Shiro. Lance was just clinging to him, his fingers pressed into his skin so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if it bruised.

“Yeah, Shiro…” Hunk agreed.

The team dispersed after that, leaving an uncomfortable-looking Shiro behind. Lance just let Keith lead him back to his room to get cleaned up.

—

Lance most certainly did not want to get back into the water. It was this realization that made him know he had to.

It was like Shiro had said—someone might need his help one day, he might need to swim again, and he couldn’t afford to let his own fears jeopardize someone else’s existence. Determined to overcome his fear alone, Lance started spending nights down at the pool.

Remembering that whole experience with Shiro trying to get him in the water only mortified him; he couldn’t believe he’d acted so blatantly afraid and babylike in front of everyone. Maybe the embarrassment helped to encourage him too.

Not that the encouragement really helped. He spent every night trying to inch a little bit deeper into the water, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling in his chest that wanted so hard for him to just scream, for him to crawl out of the pool and curl up as tight as he could on dry land.

Keith caught on, too. Lance figured he shouldn’t have been so surprised. He spent so much watching Keith, as secretly as he could, that he guessed that maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised when Keith did the same. Plus, Lance wasn’t even hiding his activities too well. He was exhausted every morning, his nights spent “swimming” as draining mentally as they were physically.

“What are you doing?” Keith asked one night, his voice echoing terrifyingly throughout the gigantic room. Lance had made a surprised sound, wondering how long he’d been standing there. Because if he’d been standing there for a while then he would’ve noticed Lance’s slow and frankly sad attempt to edge himself further out into the water. In all his nights of practice he hadn’t managed to let himself get deeper than just above his bellybutton, which was really hardly an improvement at all.

“Swimming,” Lance tried to answer casually. He was aware that his voice might sound a bit weird, what with his stomach stuck somewhere in his throat. He felt like his entire being was trying to shove itself away from the water around him, his veins and lungs and organs shoving up, up, up, in his body.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Have to.”

Keith jumped into the pool, only after shrugging out of the pajama he’d been wearing. Lance tried to ignore him, although that was kind of hard to do when Keith swam right up next to him, finally stopping barely a foot away from him.

“You don’t need to do this,” Keith said calmly. Despite how rash and impulsive Keith could be, Lance always felt like he was good at being calm and stable—at least when he wanted to be. He was better than Lance, anyway.

“Yes I do,” Lance grunted. And, wanting to seem like maybe slightly less of a pussy than he was, he forced himself to take a big step forward, holding his breath as he did. The water sloshed way above his bellybutton, almost up to his nipples, and Lance had to resist the urge to try to fling himself straight into the air to get out of the water.

He was so focused on trying not to look scared that he didn’t even notice when Keith stepped closer to him. He _did_  notice when Keith gently pulled Lance’s body into his. Lance felt himself relax, felt his body angle towards Keith like a sunflower to the sun. He curled around him, his limbs wrapped so tightly he was sure Keith would complain. It took him a few moments to realize he wasn’t even touching the bottom of the pool anymore, having wound his legs around Keith’s hips and buried his face into his neck without noticing.

“Fuck,” Lance muttered. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Keith answered. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Keith helped him, after that. Night after night, he put up with Lance and his fear and his clinginess. And… Lance got better.

Keith was good at it, whatever he was doing. Just… the being there, or something. The letting Lance hold onto him when he forgot he wasn’t dying, maybe.

And once, when Lance ducked his head under the water, only to come back up gasping and shaky but smiling all the less, laughing because _he’d done it_ —Keith kissed him.

And yeah, the water was still pretty scary, still left him wanting to hold onto Keith and gasp into his neck and tangle his fingers in his hair, but it was kind of worth it when he got to kiss him in the end.

“Damn,” Lance said, a smirk crawling across his face and causing Keith to roll his eyes. “ _That’s_  the reward I get for making progress?”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“I’ll push you under,” Keith threatened.

“No you won’t.” Lance kissed him—because he could, and because it felt nice, and because he felt a whole lot better when he did.


End file.
